


breaking their backs out of fear

by smallredboy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Married Couple, Minor Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, mentions of cannibalism/(child) murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22471147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Alana talks to Margot about Hannibal's threats.
Relationships: Alana Bloom/Margot Verger
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23
Collections: Genprompt Bingo Round 17, Ladies Bingo 2019, femslashficlets: queer women's literature quotes challenge





	breaking their backs out of fear

**Author's Note:**

> **gen prompt bingo:** rescue me: damsels (and others) in distress  
>  **ladies bingo:** it always seems impossible until it's done  
>  **femslashficlets queer women's literature prompt table:** _That conversation we were always on the edge / of having, runs on in my head._ Adrienne Rich, Twenty-One Love Poems
> 
> i keep writing the murder wives. i just love them so much.
> 
> enjoy!

Alana  _ really _ doesn't want to bring it up to Margot.

They're living happily in Norway of all places with Morgan, with their child, and the mere thought of Hannibal somehow getting out of the States and somehow finding them and somehow getting to kill them sends her down onto a spiral. They're happy. She doesn't have to tamper with that just because of her own paranoia. 

(Every time she hears someone knock at their door, her heart crawls out of her mouth. She has to look through the live feed of the cameras to make sure it's not him. She dreads the day where she'll find the live feed to be pitch black, and for the knock at the door to only grow more insistent.  _ It's a pleasure to see you, Alana, _ she can hear him say before knocking her onto the ground.)

She almost hopes that Hannibal will grab her and that Margot will come to her and shoot him dead. For her to be a damsel in distress, for her wife to save her and their son from carnage, from Hannibal and Will to feed on all of them. (Would they eat Morgan? They probably would. She doubts the murder husbands discriminate. Meat is meat.)

She doesn't try to pretend that Will isn't with him. She's had plenty of time to come to terms with the fact that Will is madly in love with Hannibal, that Will has thrown all of his life away for him. Some people theorized that Hannibal had killed him, but that wasn't right. She knows that isn't right.

"Alana," Margot starts, settling on the sofa with her, holding her hand. "You've looked terrible the past few days."

Neither of them  _ have _ to work, with the inheritance. She still has settled on learning Norwegian and having a psychiatry consult somewhere, at some hospital, though. 

"Yeah, I guess so," she says, trying to smile. "I've just been feeling sick."

Margot, on instinct, leans over and puts a hand on her forehead. "You shouldn't go to your Norwegian classes, then. You probably caught something."

Margot knows she's lying about being sick, though. That's obvious enough.

"It's just…" she starts, looking at their sofa. "There's something Hannibal told me… that I didn't want to tell you. I didn't want to worry you."

She leans in to kiss her. "Well, now you've worried me. You should tell me."

"He said we were on borrowed time," she says. Her heart speeds up at the memory, how intimidating Hannibal was even while behind a pane of hard glass, how small she felt. "That ever since I didn't die when I got pushed off a window I was on borrowed time. And that our lives— me, yours, Morgan's… that they all— that they all b-belonged to him."

"Shh," Margot shushes. "I don't know how he could find us. We're mantaining a pretty low profile, and it'll be hard for him to get out of the States. And then he'll, what, look for us until he hits the lottery in Norway? We'll be fine, love."

"Every time I hear knocking at the door I panic," Alana admits.

Margot can't help but smile wryly. "I think the psychiatrist needs a psychiatrist."

She laughs. "I guess I do." She leans in to kiss her. "Is lunch for Morgan ready?"

"I'm on it."

"You're a blessing," Alana says. "Let me help you cook. I can make arrangements to get some damn therapy afterward."

Alana follows her wife's lead to the kitchen, a lot more calm now that she actually has talked about this with her.


End file.
